


How we feel.

by hyuckie (ardenchoe)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Coming Out, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 07:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardenchoe/pseuds/hyuckie
Summary: “Jisung-ah… Do you trust me?”





	How we feel.

**Author's Note:**

> [<3](https://youtu.be/f43ODtOUmBw)

Jisung cries when he is happy. He also cries when he is mad or tired or, well, _sad_, but that’s not too unusual.

Chenle finds it endearing. He finds a lot of things Jisung does endearing and he’s not the one to hold back. But it’s different – different from what Jisung wants to hear. Chenle finds Jisung endearing in a way a big brother finds his little sibling endearing, coos at him like Jaemin and Donghyuck do, calls him cute and a baby, but it’s all different.

They’re best friends after all; that’s what Jisung tells himself. That’s also why he doesn't go to Jeno, even if he trusts that hyung the most. After Chenle. No one can ever beat Chenle.

“You wanted to talk?”

They’re best friends. Best friends are honest with each other, Jisung tells himself. Best friends tell each other secrets, even if those secrets might not make them best friends anymore. And that’s okay. He just… he just needs to say something, anything.

Chenle’s blonde way is nicely parted down the middle and he looks so good, so presentable with the way he’s leaning on the headrest of Jisung’s bed, cross-legged, Jisung’s pillow pressed to his stomach. 

“Uhm, yeah,” Jisung says and his voice sounds off, he feels off, “talk, I-”

He’s seen videos. Videos of people, of boys and girls like him, saying what he’s about to say. Most of them end well, they’re families and friends tell them they knew or that they’re surprised but happy and it’s all so perfect that Jisung actually has a little spark of hope.

Chenle’s eyes are so brown. Brown and big and clear. Jisung swallows and averts his gaze, searches for something, _anything_. Settles for his hands.

The skin around his thumb is rosy from him biting on it, a habit Jaemin’s been trying to help him get rid of but failed miserably. He can’t help it. He’s nervous these days.

“Jisung, listen, whatever it is – just _say_ it.”

Chenle’s tone is pressing and almost a little harsh and Jisung knows he doesn't mean it in a bad way. They’re best friends. They don’t need to sugarcoat things.

It’s just

He’s never said it. Out loud. Not even to himself. Only in his head and that alone had sufficed to make him almost lose his mind.

His eyes burn, so he closes them. Clenches his hands to fists. Takes a breath and

“Jisung-ah… Do you trust me?” Chenle says before he can do as much as open his mouth. Astonished and a little amused because why would he even ask that, of course Jisung trusts him, the younger looks up. His lashes feel wet but the tears have yet to spill over. “I trust you,” he confirms, voice thick with a mixture of sadness and fear, fear that the moment he’s honest, everything changes.

The blonde smiles and nods, reassuring. “Good. Then tell me.”

It’s not like he doesn't want to – right now, Jisung is sure there’s nothing he wants more, nothing more than just to say it. But. “_I can’t_.” His eyes are still wide, focussed on Chenle’s face, so hard it feels like he’s looking through him rather than at him. Those two words are enough for his voice to break and nevermind how hard he presses his eyes together, his cheeks quickly stain hot and wet.

After a few seconds of silent crying, fingernails burning holes into his hands, the bed creaks with movement and he feels Chenle scooch closer, the tips of his knees brushing Jisung’s. A hand on his own, gentle, careful. He’s so embarrassed. This is so embarrassing. He wishes he could go back in time and never ask Chenle to meet him in their room, should’ve just let him play with Jeno-hyung and all of this would have been avoided.

“Why?” asks Chenle, tentative and Jisung has to think about what he means for a moment until he realizes that the older refers to his _I can’t_.

Sniffing, he pulls his hands from beneath Chenle’s and wipes over his eyes, balls of his hands digging into them. He feels them getting puffy and it’s so stupid. It’s so, _so_ stupid.

“I- I just _can’t_,” he mumbles through his hands, “I can’t do this.”

He knows he can’t ask Chenle to leave their shared room, but moving sounds like the last thing he wants to do right now, so he just stays sitting, crying and feeling miserable for himself.

Chenle doesn’t say anything but he grabs both of Jisung’s hands, this time with a new kind of assertiveness Jisung’s not come across very often in his best friend. “Don’t you think anything that makes you this sad, I should know?” His tone is calm but Jisung can feel how he urges to dig deeper, to force it out of him. Weren’t it for this situation, Jisung would have laughed. Maybe called him cute. Only, he hasn’t done that since – since he _knew_.

“Why?” he then retorts, throwing Chenle’s previous question right back at him.

“Because. I want to help. What are friends for, idiot?”

Jisung opens his eyes. Chenle is terrible at comforting. “You’re older than me,” he states, matter-of-factly, “how can we be friends?”

Chenle stares at him. Mouth opens. Closes. Then his confusion turns into something resembling anger. Or sadness. Jisung isn’t sure yet. “Do you not think of me as your friend?”

That’s the thing, though, Jisung doesn't say. Of course Chenle is his friend. Best friend. But he’s also much, much more.

But, “I do!” Jisung quickly says. He sniffles. “Do you?”

Now the confusion is back on his face. Chenle’s hands loosen a little around his but he doesn't take them away. Jisung wants to grab them tighter but doesn't dare to do so, scared that the gesture alone would reveal all he’s been trying to hide.

He forces himself to hold eye contact, even if it kills him inside. (_“If you look into someone’s eyes for over eight seconds, your heartbeats begin to synchronize. That’s why it feels weird,” Jeno had told them over dinner once and promptly, all of them tried staring into each other’s eyes to see if it was true. “I don’t think it’s weird,” Jaemin had shrugged. “Of course you don’t.” Renjun rolled his eyes. Without saying anything, Jisung tried to calm down his heart from staring into Chenle’s eyes for over eight seconds, wondering if their hearts had synched up and if that meant that Chenle felt how fast Jisung’s was beating._)

“What is this about?” the Chinese finally speaks up, after moments of tension loaded silence.

Jisung hadn’t noticed how he’d pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, so he lets it go. Sniffs again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn't answer mine.”

Jisung is frustrated. “Please- _please_. Don’t do this.”

That seems to do it. Chenle pulls his hands away. “Sorry.” Jisung shakes his head, tears already coming back, though he’s not sure they’ve ever stopped.

“No- no, _I’m_ sorry. I’m so sorry for- for everything. I’m s- sorry-” He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for, but that’s all he can get out, all he feels, he’s so sorry. Maybe for everything. For not being grateful with Chenle being his friend; for constantly wanting more, wanting what he can’t have and will never have. For being so selfish to think that being friends – being best friends – meant having to tolerate everything. It doesn’t. He wants to cut out his tongue.

He takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Tears roll over his cheeks, warm droplets onto his hands. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend.”

“_Yah, Park Jisung_.” Chenle’s hands seem to hover over him, he feels the slight whiff of air as the older raises them up, the slight movement of the mattress. They land on his shoulders, gently applying pressure. Then, caressing. It’s like he doesn't know what to do and Jisung doesn't blame him, _can’t_ blame him, only blames himself, for wanting to sink into his touch. “Please look at me.”

Hesitantly, Jisung does. Sees Chenle through a blur of tears.

“I don’t know- I’m don’t know why you’re so hurt but I’m sorry if it’s because of me, okay? Of course we’re friends. Best friends. I’m yours and you’re mine.” The blonde tries a smile, timidly so, but it’s painful nonetheless. Jisung feels sick.

(_I’m yours and you’re mine._)

Then, Chenle starts crying. Not a lot, only a few tears that suddenly create streaks down his cheeks and he wipes them away quickly, smile still in place, looking a little embarrassed. It’s not a lot and still, to Jisung, it’s like a punch right to the gut.

He splutters, struggling to find the right words, to find any words, only manages to reach forward and this time, it’s him grabbing Chenle’s hands. They’re clammy, like his own and the moment he takes them into his own, a strange sense of security strikes him.

(_I’m yours and you’re mine._)

“Okay,” he begins and clears his throat, “okay. Wait. Shit.” He rubs his face on his shoulder, to get right of some of the never-ending tears. Chenle giggles. “Don’t curse or I’m telling Jaemin.”

It’s good. This can be good. (_I’m yours and you’re mine._)

Jisung takes a deep breath. “Lately, um. Lately, I realized something.” If he could just stop crying. That would be nice. “About myself.”

He nods, eyes trained on their intertwined hands. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to tell som- _you_. I need to tell _you_. And that’s hard, because I’m, like, scared. That you’ll look at me, um, differently? Yeah. That’s it.”

When he looks up, he expects a few things. A shocked expression. A disgusted look, a furrowed brow. Maybe even an understanding smile.

Chenle just looks at him.

Jisung raises his eyebrows in a silent question, waiting for a reaction. Only, there is none. Nothing. Just staring.

“Jisung-ah, do I have something on my face? What is it that you realized?”

Oh.

His mouth dries up. He’d forgotten catastrophically dense his best friend is. “I- I basically just told you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I’m-”

(_I’m yours and you’re mine._)

Jisung’s lips tremble and his insides churn so uncomfortably.

“I-”

(_I’m yours and you’re mine._)

“I’m gay.”

(_I’m yours.)_

**Author's Note:**

> part of me wants to write a sequel where we see chenle's reaction and jisung continues to say that it's him he's in love with T______T i haven't slept in like 24 hours lol
> 
> [my twitter!!](https://twitter.com/jizennie)


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